


the dismantled

by greenforsnow



Series: Trek Bingo 2020 [4]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Could Be Read as Pre-Relationship, Gen, I need AOS christine chapel, Post-Star Trek Beyond, Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenforsnow/pseuds/greenforsnow
Summary: Nyota sighed and fiddled with the edges of her sleeves. Nothing to do. That was the problem. She was okay as long as there was something to do. She could work until she fell asleep at her desk. And when she ran out of work, she went to the gym. Turned the volume of the built in speakers as loud as it would go and played Klingon battle songs. The music vibrated through her body. She had to make a conscious effort to translate the words. She’d run until her legs gave out. She had held it together. Everything inside of her. The loss. The fear. The anger. The kind of grief she could feel in her teeth. She’d patched the holes with work and studying. With making lists and focusing on getting stronger, getting more prepared.Nyota Uhura processing the events of Star Trek: Beyond
Relationships: Christine Chapel & Nyota Uhura
Series: Trek Bingo 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904833
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13
Collections: Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020





	the dismantled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [delgaserasca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delgaserasca/gifts).



> who inspired me with a conversation about how after Beyond Nyota needs and deserves some love and friendship and healing and who is an expert on tenderness and friendship.
> 
> Written for the "Holiday" square of my Trek Bingo 2020 card.

Nyota was grateful for the shore leave. She was. The past few months had been hectic for all of them - the rush of the ship being finished, so many details to get sorted out. It had been a while before they had found an M-class planet after the nebula. She was grateful that Kirk saw the benefit of stopping here to let the crew stretch their legs and focus on something besides work. The planet was beautiful, freckled with deep pools of fresh blue water, and enough plant life to make Sulu stumble off the shuttle-craft, sample cases spilling from his arms and three tricorders slung around his neck. The air was dry, and she could hear gentle warbles of some avian creature above them. Paradise, really. Nothing to do, but relax and enjoy oneself. 

Nyota sighed and fiddled with the edges of her sleeves. _Nothing to do_. That was the problem. She was okay as long as there was something to do. She could work until she fell asleep at her desk, and when she ran out of work, she went to the gym. Turned the volume of the built in speakers as loud as it would go, and played Klingon battle songs, the music vibrating through her body. She had to make a conscious effort to translate the words. She’d run until her legs gave out. She’d held it together, everything inside of her. The loss. The fear. The anger. The kind of grief she could feel in her teeth. She’d patched the holes with work and studying, with making lists and focusing on getting stronger, getting more prepared. 

Paradise. Right. What was she supposed to do here? She turned back towards the last shuttle craft, which had just landed. The Captain was tugging at Doctor McCoy’s sleeve and pointing to something on the horizon. She smiled slightly at the sight. He was talking fast, and even across the way she could see the excitement in his eyes. It was good to see that. Spock stood a few paces back and met Nyota’s eyes. She smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. Before, she could have spent the day with Spock. Engage him in debate or assist him in collecting samples. It wasn’t that she _couldn’t_ now; they still spent time together. But instead of being a distraction, she suspected that it would just be a reminder of the things she had let go of. 

She wondered whether she could take a shuttle back to the ship. She could finish translating the book of Orion poetry that Gaila had given her. She knew where Scotty kept his liquor, and she still had a few packages of cocoa squirreled away. Better yet, all the observation decks would be empty. She could sit with a cup of drinking chocolate and watch this paradise from a distance while avoiding an idle mind.

Her decision made, she turned on her heel, back towards the transports. 

“Leaving so soon?” Christine Chapel’s clear voice called out as she approached from the shuttle that had just landed.

Christine, the newly appointed chief nurse, looked like she was ready for a day in paradise - unlike Nyota who was wearing her uniform. Christine was wearing a simple, light blue dress, her blond curls tied in a bun on top of her head, a towel slung over her shoulder. 

“I remembered I have some work that I need to get done,” Nyota said. She was aware it wasn’t a good excuse, but that didn’t prepare her for the keen, appraising look that Christine gave her.

“No,” she said simply, and took Nyota’s arm, pulling her away from the shuttles.

“No?” Nyota asked with a disbelieving laugh. 

“No,” Christine repeated firmly. “You need shore leave just as much as the rest of us.” She paused and pursed her lips. “If not more. And I need the company. Come on.”

It wasn’t an order, but there was something in the way that she said it, the soft clipped syllables and the way that she didn’t look back to see if Nyota was following her, that compelled Nyota to do as she was told.. 

The path was narrow, the exposed roots of the encroaching trees bare and thick snaking across the forest floor. Nyota appreciated that Christine didn’t try to fill the natural silence that fell between them as they walked. She allowed herself to focus on the sound of her boots against the soft ground, the brush of the breeze against the back of her neck, the deep smell of foliage and fertile soil. Nyota was watching her feet while they walked, and almost ran into Christine when she stopped. They had gone far enough that they could no longer hear the voices of any of the crew. The air was thick with the rustling of leaves. 

They had come to a point where the trees thinned and dark rocks emerged from the ground instead of dirt. Up ahead, the branches of the trees curved around the banks of a stream that fed into a basin of clear water. Christine turned back to her and gave her a radiant smile as she tucked the long end of her dress into her belt and pulled off her shoes. 

Nyota sighed softly and acquitessed to Christine’s unspoken request. She tugged off her uniform boots and socks and walked to join her at the edge of the water.

It was beautiful and she wanted to appreciate it. The cool waters were deep, and stained dark from the foliage. The suns’ light hit the water and reflected brightly back, each ripple glowing. The peaceful scene stood in stark contrast to the consuming twist of emotions inside of her; it was easier to pretend when the world around her was chaotic and busy. Here, she felt exposed, as if Christine would look at her and immediately see the patulous cracks of grief, and loss, and fear inside of her. 

If she did, she didn’t mention it. Her smile didn’t fade as she turned to Nyota and helped her wrap her hair in a soft waterproof cloth she pulled out from somewhere in her skirt. 

“Did you know that it’s _Chevesic-di-fawt_?” Christine asked. Her voice didn’t falter over the alien words.

It took Nyota a moment, out of context, to recognize the Kayaik words. “Day of the Dismantled?” she said, not quite sure of her translation. Kayaik was an obscure language, only spoken by a small population on one of the Eurydician moons.

“It sounds much better in Kayaik, but that’s the general meaning.” 

“Where did you learn to speak it?” Nyota asks.

“On Eurydice-IV. Roger was studying the medicinal value of the venom of a marine-worm only found there. We stayed for almost a full year.” Her smile changed to something sad and longing, and it made Nyota reach out and touch her arm. She admired the way that Christine talked about Roger. She never shied away from her own grief for the comfort of others. 

Christine shook her head slightly, bringing herself back from whatever memories she had been engrossed with. 

She lowered herself to the ground and dipped her calves in the water, flinching slightly at the sudden cold. Nyota joined her, rolling her ankles in circles and watching her toes surface and submerge, trying to focus just on this. The feeling of the air on her wet skin, bracing and cool, quickly disappearing to the sensation of water surrounding her. “Who are the dismantled?” 

“The Kayaik believe that the soul is made up of each of our experiences, each person we meet, each conversation we have, every sensation we experience is a small piece of us. They believe all of those bits are joined together to create this whole glowing being inside every individual.”

Nyota shivered. Unbidden, an image of Krall entered her mind. “And what if there are people I don’t want to be a part of me?”

Christine didn’t look at her; she tucked a curl behind her ear and continued to talk. “They believe that if you ignore a part of your soul, if you push it down, it only grows. Soon it becomes too big— it takes over and things are unbalanced and fragile. Soon it causes everything to shatter.”

Nyota fingered the neckline of her dress. Is that what she was? Is that what Christine saw when she looked at her, a bunch of shattered fragments that used to be a soul? “ _Chevesic-di-fawt_ is a day to mourn these fragmented souls?” She picked up a piece of rock from the edge of the water and squeezed it in her palm.

Christine smiled. “It celebrates them. They see the dismantled as people who were strong enough to withstand the pressure. To resist and fight back. Even if that resistance is simply living every day with that sharp piece of the past cutting into you. _Chevesic-di-fawt_ recognizes that. It honors those people and helps them to rebuild.”

Nyota released the rock she was holding. It fell into the water and disappeared below the surface.

“This is my favorite part. The beauty of the soul being broken is that when you put it back together you get to choose what pieces you keep. You can’t ignore the bad pieces entirely - otherwise you’d end up in the same situation - but you do get to pick what part of them you want to take back. They don’t think it heals you. It doesn’t make things right. But you get a piece of yourself back.”

Nyota felt something inside of her spark at Christine’s words, something that felt like hope— or at least hope adjacent. It felt foreign— too bright and loud. “What happens on _Chevesic-di-fawt_?”

“There’s a ritual. We could try,” Christine said. For the first time she looked hesitant as she looked back at Nyota. “Ritual may not be the right word…”

“Let’s do it,” Nyota said quickly. “I trust you,” she continued as she pressed a grateful hand over Christine’s, realizing just how true the words were as she spoke them. 

Christine’s smile was full of relief and admiration, and felt as warm as the sun on Nyota’s skin.

“Alright, first you lay in the water, float on your back.”

Nyota tugged her dress up over her head and hung it on one of the branches that hung over the water. She walked until she was up to her hips, the cold lapping against her bare stomach.She could feel the rocks dropping off, her toes curled around the edges as she tried to balance herself. She turned and looked back at Christine who had followed her, the ends of her dress escaping her belt and billowing in the water behind her. 

Nyota pushed off from the rocks and allowed her body to be lifted up. The water felt warmer when she was mostly submerged. She felt strangely disoriented, on her back and looking up at the canopy of branches. She closed her eyes as Christine swam towards her.

“Good. Now picture a shard— a broken moment that has been stuck in you. Picture it laying on your chest weighing you down.”

This was surprisingly easy to do. The loss of friends, teachers, the Zelonite who sold sweet fried dough that smelled so much like mandazi that Nyota was almost transported to her grandfather’s kitchen. All gone. It already felt like a constant ache inside her, so picturing it as a heavy broken fragment cutting and digging against her wasn’t much of a stretch. 

“Now imagine it washing away.” Christine’s voice was soft and melodic and a small wave of water washed over her torso. “Now another.”

So Nyota did. Again and again. Krall’s cold dark eyes; the fear she could still taste in her mouth; the people she watched die. The realization that her love for Spock wouldn’t fix what was already broken, worries that she could have done more; the certainty that she would never know all the ways in which their world was broken. All washed off her, floating beneath the dark depth of the water until they were out of sight. 

She wasn’t sure how long they spent like that. Somehow Christine knew the moment when she couldn’t think of anything else. Her hand found hers under the water and squeezed it gently. 

“Are you ready?”

Nyota opened her eyes and smiled back at the nurse. Open and light. It didn’t feel like she was free from what had washed away— just that it held less power over her now.

The walk back felt different. The light through the trees warmed and dried her skin. They walked mostly in silence again, occasionally bumping elbows and hips as the path narrowed. 

Nyota stopped Christine with a gentle hand on her arm before they reached the edge of the woods. She could hear their fellow crew members’ voices overlapping, and the drone of a shuttle flying low overhead. 

“Thank you,” she said, hoping that the sincerity in her voice was enough to convey the enormity of the emotion welling in her throat. 

Christine smiled. “It’s okay to let other people take care of you, you know. Every once in a while.”

“I—” Nyota stopped as the look in Christine’s eyes sharpened and she raised an eyebrow. “You’re right,” she said instead and then paused before asking. “How did you know? What I needed?”

The look in Christine’s eyes was sad for a moment, the light blue darkening. She spoke next in Kayaik, the quiet rasp so natural in her throat that it took Nyota a moment to decipher. She was tugging her back towards the crowd before she was able to translate the words.

 _The dismantled always find each other_. 


End file.
